


A Mother Comes In Many Forms

by inkbadger



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5+1 Things, And being more than the comic relief everyone portrays him as?, Angst, Because he lived in a shack in the desert that's why, But Lance is Space Mom, Canon Typical Violence, Cuban Lance, Five Times Prompt, Fluff, Galra Keith, Gen, Homesickness, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Lance, It's a little more detailed, JUST, Keith knows first aid, Lance being appreciated?, Lance is a mom, Lance talks in Spanish when he's stressed, Major Character Injury, Medic Matt, Protective Lance, Protective Team, Samoan Hunk, Shiro has PTSD, Shiro might be Space Dad, Why?, injured paladins, is that a thing?, ish, mentions of Hance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkbadger/pseuds/inkbadger
Summary: “A mother is the truest friend we have, when trials heavy and sudden fall upon us; when adversity takes the place of prosperity; when friends desert us; when trouble thickens around us, still will she cling to us, and endeavor by her kind precepts and counsels to dissipate the clouds of darkness, and cause peace to return to our hearts.”--The Paladins didn't realize that they had found a mother in one of their own- after all, Lance simply was who he had always been. They just needed a nudge to realize it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I know I really shouldn't start another project while I'm already working on another, but I feel like a short side-work will help me come up with ideas for my other one, so here we are. 
> 
> Quote in summary by Washington Irving. 
> 
> PS. It's almost 3am. There are mistakes. Probably a lot with my Spanish.

“Guys, we could really use some help down here!”

Lance ducked around one of the support beams that lined the entirety of the hall, suddenly grateful for the thick metal as a blast from one of the guns sizzled past his cheek. His bayard was clutched firmly in his fingers, his mind settling into the same strange calm that it always did as he centered himself and focused on his breath before darting out to pick off another straggler from the pack.

Pidge was further ahead in the hall, her shorter height an advantage now, giving the Galra less of an opportunity to hit her. Besides, she’d already reprogrammed three droids to her cause, and while that number was now down to two thanks to a lucky shot, it still gave her another edge.

“Come on, come on.” He muttered to himself, still only receiving static from his helmet’s communication system. It had gone silent after he’d taken a hit from being thrown into a wall- thankfully he’d been wearing his helmet in the first place and thus avoided a concussion. “I don’t know how many more of these guys are coming!”

“Hurry up!”

Pidge’s voice echoed back down the hallway to him as another ominous rumble rocked the ship- Lance sincerely hoped that she hadn’t gotten them lost, or worse.

Grunting, he lunged out from behind the pillar, firing enough cover that the swarm currently on his ass had to take cover behind several pieces of collapsed ceiling, before taking off down the hall after their youngest paladin.

It was supposed to be a routine hack and dash. A quick saboteur act and out again.

The problem, he could admit, was that with all of their recent victories, their team had fallen into complacency. They had assumed that they still had the upper hand while the Galra regrouped and plotted new ways to lure them in.

Evidently, it had worked.

“Lance, come on!” Pidge barked again as he finally caught up with her, noting the tense way she held her shoulders and bayard, the streaks of dirt and grime and other smudges that quite frankly, Lance didn’t want to know the origin of. “It should just be up ahead-“

She screeched to a halt as another legion of Galra turned the corner, bayard at the ready as Lance wordlessly moved into a position to cover her back, turning to ready his shot at the squadron behind them.

“You get those ones and I’ll get these ones?” she asked breathlessly. How she managed to sound as drily deadpan as she did was something Lance knew he would never be able to decipher, try as he might.

“You got it, Pidgeon.” He smirked, even as his internal voice was screaming that there was no way that they were going to make it out of here unless someone got their coms back up and running in the next few ticks. “Loser has to help Coran with repairs for the next week.”

“Is that supposed to be a punishment?” she sniped back as the Galra descended on them.

Time passed in a whirl- Pidge stuck close to Lance’s side, the small projectile that was her bayard felling the beings that were easily double her height and twice as pissy. Lance held off the others, his shots making sure that not a single Galra would be getting up any time soon, if at all.

All of the paladins had had to come to terms a while ago that they wouldn’t be able to _not_ take the kill shot during the war against Zarkon. It simply just wasn’t possible- if it wasn’t the Galra, it would be them. Zarkon didn’t care if they were trying to be merciful or not- he wanted Voltron, and he would go to any lengths to ensure that it happened.

As if in slow motion, Lance registered Pidge’s proximity to the Galra, saw the claws hook into her uniform and _heave_ upwards. She cried out in surprise and pain as she flew through the air, managing to hold her ground as she slid across the floor.

Not good. Really, really not good.

Despite the now frequent rumblings and shakings of the ship, it didn’t seem to cause any visible concern amongst the soldiers- their focus was entirely on him and Pidge.

“Pidge!” he yelled, ignoring the alarms that had started blaring overhead, ducking under a blade and using his rifle as a bat to smash into the Galra’s face.

“I’m good!” she yelled back, hauling herself back upright and diving right back into the fray.

_“L-nc- Pid-e?”_

Life crackled into his helmet, scattered fragments of speech that Lance hadn’t realized he’d missed as much as he had.

“We’re here!” he yelled back, grunting as a blaster caught him in the shin. Why the hell were they even aiming that low, anyway? “Shiro? Keith? Hunk?”

_“Lance?”_

There was Hunk- God bless that man.

“I get that you guys are having a great time blowing this ship to hell and all, but we could really use some help here.” Pidge grunted as a kick nearly caught her in the side. “Lance and I are stuck in the middle of a hostile sandwich, and we need to get out of here before we detonate our greeting cards.”

 _“Hold on a bit longer, Lance, Keith and Hunk are on the way.”_ Shiro replied, sounding just as unruffled as he always did. Which was _totally not fair_ , but hey- being the head of Voltron meant that Shiro had to be the one to keep the rest of them from going into full blown panic. Or at least attempt to keep them all from losing their minds. It tended to be a bit of a fifty-fifty shot.

“Pidge… remember Arestimal?”

Pidge brought down another Galra with a neat twist of her _thighs around his neck_ , taking a breath for a moment as she shot him a quick look.

“I can’t forget Arestimal, Lance. You blew up half th-“

He could see the precise moment she clued in to what he was saying.

“No.”

“I’m not seeing many other options here, Pidge.” Lance pointed out, firing another round into the seething mass of sharp teeth, claws and overall bad attitude, adrenaline surging through his veins.

Around them, the ship continued to rumble ominously as the Galra piloting it held the other paladins at bay. Realistically, they would probably be captured, hauled off to Zarkon, and then either killed, experimented on, or thrown into the arena. If they were really unlucky, some twisted combination of all three. “I don’t know about you, but we can’t hold them off forever.”

He grunted as he was tackled from behind- time seemed to simultaneously slow down and speed up as he grappled with the sudden assault from multiple attackers.

If he was being completely honest, he really didn’t like these odds. A glance at Pidge told him that she wasn’t holding up much better with the continual assault. She fought with ferocity, yes, but she was beginning to tire.

“ _Lance_ -“ Hunk warned, somehow sensing where his thoughts were turning.

“Still here, my man.” He managed to return, gasping in pain as another blow managed to get past his defenses. “Pidge, please tell me you’ve got a better idea than I do.”

“Not really.” She grunted, managing to carve a pathway to get closer to Lance. “At this range, the explosions wouldn’t kill us, but it wouldn’t be fun. Like, at all. Broken bones are the least of our worries.”

“Well, that’s cheerful.”

_“Lance? Pidge? Don’t do anything rash.”_

“Shiro, unless you’re getting into this ship in the next two minutes, Pidge and I are going to be captured or dead. There’s not a lot of options here.”

The radio silence that greeted him fueled him further.

“Pidge, how do we minimize damage to us?”

“Start praying if you believe in a God?”

“Awesome.” Lance bit back dryly. “Okay. It’s not our best option, but Zarkon isn’t going to be getting us today. Count it down, Pidge!”

“ _Seriously?”_

“Close enough.” Lance shrugged, completely unapologetic as he raised the button that Pidge had pressed into his hands a few minutes prior. “Fire in the hole!”

The shockwave blasted them all off their feet.

Pidge was dislodged from a Galra’s grip, flying into the nearest wall with a sharp cry as the blast caused half of the wall to implode and the ceiling to creak, buckling under the pressure.

Lance jerked off his feet, head slamming into something that might have been the floor if he could just figure out which way was up over the ringing in his ears. It overtook everything else, but the only thing that was on his mind as he sluggishly pushed himself upright was Pidge.

He may have blacked out for a second, because the next time he opened his eyes, small fires dotted the floor from the remnants of the combustibles that he, Pidge and Hunk had combined to create their makeshift bombs.

As he shifted, pain shot through his shoulders and hip, radiating deeply through him. Likely concussed, if the sudden nausea was anything to go by. He had to take a moment to breathe and resist the urge to both vomit and close his eyes for a moment. Sleepiness was not a good sign.

He mouthed Pidge’s name, uncertain if he was actually speaking or not, managing to stagger to his feet and promptly reject the entirety of his stomach contents onto the floor as his abused body decided that that was quite enough, thank you.

The ringing eased off the longer he was on his feet, though he was already developing one hell of a headache.

_“Lance? Pidge?”_

_“Answer me!”_

_“Paladins, report!”_

“I think I’m okay.” Lance groaned, tensing as movement out of the corner of his eye drew his attention.

“I’m fine, I think.” Pidge rasped, coughing as she appeared from under some lighter looking debris, carefully shaking out her limbs and checking for injury. “Next time, I vote we set off a bunch of smaller ones instead of a bunch of really big ones. That hurt like hell.”

 _“Thank God. You two get out of there. The ship doesn’t have long thanks to those explosives you set off.”_ Shiro sighed, relief obvious in his tone. “ _Looks like the Galra still have their shields up- you’re going to have to get to Green and get out on your own.”_

Lance nodded as he made a noise of affirmation, picking his way through the graveyard of shrapnel stiffly, his bayard still somehow in his hand. Getting back to the castle sounded pretty damn fantastic, if for no other reason that he would be able to pass out in peace.

“Alright, Pidgeon.” He forced the cheer back into his voice, even as he grunted as the effort caused pain to shoot through his ribs and he tried to adjust in such a way that his hip wasn’t aching. “Just some debris and some Galra, and we’re home free.”

“Yeah.”

She was pale, looking like she’d been thrown around harder than Lance had previously thought. As he watched her hop over a piece of ceiling, she winced, favoring her right knee. Of course, there wasn’t much that he could do about a busted knee in the middle of a Galra ship, so he decided that it wasn’t worth the effort to start the argument. Once they were safe in Green, he would make sure that she was okay.

They had to admit that they’d done a pretty decent job at blowing out most of the walls and internal workings of the ship as Pidge walked slightly ahead of Lance, her bayard at the ready as she led the way back to where they’d hidden Green.

_“It looks like we’re going to have to retreat- they’ve got their ion cannon back up and running!”_

_“Pidge and Lance are still-“_

The words cut out in a burst of static. Apparently the brief window of communication had closed, leaving Lance alone with his thoughts.

He insisted on scouting ahead when they came to a less damaged part of the ship- there was no telling how structurally sound the walls around them were, and they had no idea where there would be more Galra soldiers. Not to mention that his bayard was more suited to long distance attacks, which would be a definite help if they did run into any more Galra. Neither of them were in good enough shape to make it through another mob attack.

He moved out into the hall, tense and waiting, but it seemed like their luck might have improved.

Might.

Lance stepped down on something that creaked sharply, the metal soft beneath his foot.

“Lance, look out!”

Pidge lunged, knocking him out of the way and landing heavily on his ribs as the floor gave way in a surge of screeching metal.

“Thanks.” He finally managed to pant out, slowly heaving himself back upright, clutching at his side. Breathing had just gotten harder than it already had been, but he would be fine. He just had to make it a little further.

“Anytime.” She gasped back, looking just as worn as he felt. “Come on. Almost there now.”

The halls were clear until they made it to the hangar that Green had been stashed in. Both paladins knew that there was no chance of any Galra getting past the particle barrier that all of the lions possessed and could activate at will. No, the problem was how to get from the hall into Green and then back to the castle without dying.

Lance was lagging by now, his head pounding and the walls spinning in a way that he was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to happen.

No. He was fine. He had to make sure that Pidge stayed safe.

Pidge was-

“Pidge, look out!” he yelled in warning, eyes widening, adrenaline surging back through his veins to no avail.

If Pidge getting thrown around by a Galra had been bad, it was nothing compared to being rendered immobile by his shout, twisting but not turning fast enough to deflect the blade directed at her chest entirely with her bayard.

A haze of crimson descended on Lance’s vision as he watched the blade pierce her shoulder, sinking deeply into her skin, watching as she arched in pain, mouth opening in a scream-

He wasn’t sure how he got from point A to point B. All he registered was a feral snarl that tore from his throat as he went after the Galra, nothing but complete, unfiltered rage fueling him as he ripped it off of her and followed, using his bayard as a battering ram.

Time had to have passed, but he didn’t register it, didn’t even register that Keith and Hunk had somehow arrived until Hunk was pulling him away from the body, murmuring soft words of comfort as he formed a human shield between him and what was left of the unfortunate soul who had hurt their Green Paladin.

“Lance, she’s okay. Pidge is okay.” He soothed, forcing Lance to meet his gaze as his hands descended carefully onto his shoulders and began rubbing circles there. “Breathe.”

He could only imagine the mess he’d made of himself- bloody, half wild and nearly frothing at the mouth- but as reality filtered through the haze in his head he immediately fixated on the topic of conversation and twisted violently, honing in on Pidge.

Keith had managed to get her to her feet, but she was pale and her shoulder was a mess of crimson and the ruins of her armor around the wound.

Lance pulled himself free of Hunk’s gentle touches and quickly made his way over to the youngest of their team, pushing Keith out of the way and scooping her into his arms in a bridal carry, mindful of her shoulder as he went on autopilot. Any injuries that he had were completely ignored.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Hunk telling Keith not to take it to heart, but Lance was single-minded in his task. Pidge needed to get back to the castle and get her shoulder wrapped up- he wasn’t sure if it was serious enough to warrant getting stuck in one of the healing pods for a few hours or not. Just to err on the side of caution, however, he decided that once they were back in Green he was going to find one of the scanners he knew Pidge had been tinkering with and making sure that she really was okay.

“Lance, I’m fine.”

“Shut up, Pidgeon.” He bit back, worry setting in. “You’re not fine.”

She looked as if she wanted to disagree, but as a sharp step jolted her she winced, her already pale complexion paling further.

“I’d probably be dead if you hadn’t yelled.” She offered, hissing as Lance had to navigate a bumpy patch in their path that included a thick trail of bodies. Thankfully, Green had already dropped her barrier, crouching and opening her maw to allow the pair entrance. “So there’s that.”

“Don’t waste your energy right now.” He snapped. “You were _stabbed_.”

“I would never have guessed.” Pidge bit back dryly.

“ _Dame fuerza_.” He muttered before sighing. “ _Esto es mi culpa. Lo siento, Pidge. Yo debi haber sido más cuidadoso.”_

Pidge wasn’t entirely familiar with Spanish- she’d never really been interested in languages in school, so her basic knowledge really only included her numbers up to twenty and how to ask where the bathroom was. But she did know enough to know that Lance was beating himself up over this already, and they hadn’t even made it to the castle and the inevitable lecture from both Shiro _and_ Allura.

“Hey. Lance.”

He glanced down at her, worry clear in his blue eyes.

“Thanks for having my back. I know you were kinda against dealing with all of this today.” She gestured vaguely as Lance stumbled into Green, navigating to the cockpit and carefully depositing Pidge into the seat before going to look for that scanner as Green’ s thrusters engaged.

Everything blurred together for a bit again, making it back to the castle and getting Pidge situated in a pod because the stab wound actually _had_ been that bad- and Lance getting a quick check himself, though he adamantly refused to be wrangled into a pod until Pidge came out of hers and proved that she was actually okay and not about to disappear on them.

Well, that and most of the power to the castle had been cut off- what was left was currently being channelled into the pod that Pidge was in and only the most basic and vital of power until they were able to stop and make repairs.

Lance’s vision blurred as he hunkered down deeper into the blanket that Hunk had brought with him earlier, struggling to stay awake as the splitting headache that had been developing over the last… however long it had been continued to pound to the same tempo as his heart. He’d given up on trying to get comfortable- the throbbing pain in his ribs and hip were only just cancelled out by the pounding in his skull and his determination to keep breathing steadily.

“Lance, stay awake.”

That was Keith. When had Keith arrived?

His brow furrowed, and he blinked fuzzily before leaning back against the pod, closing his eyes.

Keith pinched him.

It wouldn’t necessarily have been that bad on any other day, but with the number of bruises and scrapes littering his skin, a whine of pain left his throat as one such bruise was aggravated by the Red Paladin’s sharp nails.

“’M exhausted, Mullet.” He groaned, leaning against him dizzily. “Jus’ lemme sleep _un momento.”_

Keith frowned. He already knew that Lance had been injured, but as to what extent he couldn’t say.

“Lance, open your eyes for me.” He said sharply, readjusting himself so that he was facing Lance. When all he received was a faint hum, concern made him snap his fingers in front of Lance’s features, earning a scowl as the other male narrowed eyes at him.

“What.” He tried to bite back, though in reality he simply looked puzzled.

“Follow my finger with your eyes.” He instructed.

“Why?”

“Humor me.” He said flatly.

Lance rolled his eyes, wincing as he straightened, before slowly following the trail of Keith’s finger back and forth in front of his nose.

“Did you hit your head?” he continued questioning, leaning closer to gently run his fingers around Lance’s scalp, frowning when he found a spot at the back that was radiating heat and caused Lance to make a high noise of pain.

“Okay, likely concussed. Move your arms so I can get at your ribs.”

Now that he was really looking, his mind pointed out the clues that were standing out to him. Mostly thanks to his own experience from such injuries- one such incident including falling off the roof of his shack in the middle of the night while trying to find the one rung of the ladder- he had picked up more than a few tricks in emergency medical care.

“Don’ think I can.” Lance admitted faintly, eyes glassy as they stared at something that only he could see over Keith’s shoulder. “What’re you doing?”

“Looking for broken ribs.”

“Why?”

“You’ve been favoring your side since we found you in the ship. Now let me see before I find out you’ve broken all of your damn ribs.”

“Oh. Alright.”

Keith didn’t like passive Lance.

The only sign that he was still present was the shivers that he shuddered his way through as Keith’s hands moved along over top of the black undersuit that he hadn’t changed out of yet, poking and prodding.

Keith knew he’d found the spot when Lance stiffened and opened his mouth, only for no sound to escape. A sob of pain finally escaped, and he shuddered against Keith’s gentle touch.

“Okay. Lance, I need you to breathe and not do anything to jar your ribs.” He tried to soothe the other, feeling way out of his depth. “I’m going to page Shiro and Coran down to help me get you back on your feet, alright?”

Lance sobbed again, nodding as he tried to curl in on himself. Everything was spinning in ways that he wasn’t aware that could, and his head felt like an ice pick was slowly being driven forcibly into it. Not to mention the resurgence of nausea that had him retching again, which cause red hot fire to arch its way through his ribs.

His world dipped sideways, and he didn’t remember much that followed.

There might have been Shiro and Coran, words mouthed at him and sounding like they were spoken through water, but Lance could only focus on the thought of Pidge. Where was Pidge? Why wasn’t Pidge right next to him- she had just been typing on the Galra computer a moment ago.

He struggled, air escaping him and then he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _breathe_ -

And then something pierced his skin, allowing him to suck oxygen desperately into his starved lungs as he finally passed out.

 

* * *

 

 

Pidge woke to find the castle curiously quiet and an exhausted looking Keith waiting to catch her when she tumbled out of the pod.

When Keith told her what had happened to Lance, she panicked, mind immediately going to the worst case scenario. She’d already lost a father and a brother- she couldn’t lose anyone else from her adopted space family.

Thankfully, with Pidge no longer in the pod, they could finally get Lance stabilized. Hunk was nearly inconsolable when she entered the med bay that Lance was being kept, pulling her immediately into a hug and making sure that she really was okay before going back to fretting over Lance.

Shiro looked exhausted. Knowing him, he had probably not slept at all between checking on Pidge and making sure that Lance didn’t crash while no one was looking. His white forelock stood out starkly against his skin, but his eyes were warm as he quietly pulled her in for a one armed hug. And if he held on longer than was absolutely necessary, she didn’t say anything.

“He needs to wake up so I can kick his ass for not telling us he was hurt.” Keith muttered darkly, crossing his arms over his chest as Coran ran another scanner over him. “Concussed and broken ribs. And a cracked pelvis.”

“I landed on him.” Pidge offered as explanation. “He looked out for me the entire mission. I was _stabbed_ and he still managed to make sure I was okay.”

“He’s going to be fine, Number Five.” Coran offered quietly, a small smile on his features. “Our Blue Paladin is tougher than he looks- he’ll be ‘right as rain’ before you know it.”

After all was said and done, Lance was okay. Physically, he was almost right back to normal, save for a sore nub on the back of his skull where he’d concussed himself. Any pressure to it brought on sparks of pain, so sleeping had become something of a brief juggling act while he figured out the best position to avoid aggravating the scar tissue.

Allura and Shiro both had a stern conversation with him regarding his tendency to not tell them when he was hurt, but at that Lance brushed it off.

“Pidge was more important. I would have been fine. But she wouldn’t have been.” He offered firmly. “If anything happened to her, I would never forgive myself. She reminds me of my sister- and I’ll protect her and every one of you if I have to. You’re all my family too now, and family sticks together.”

And if he kept a closer watch than usual on Pidge after that mission, no one had the heart to tell him off.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I decided halfway into this that there is total Hance in this fic. Not sorry. 
> 
> Also have some Samoan Hunk and a lot of fluff.

Between the constant Galra attacks repairs, diplomacy missions and continual injuries that suddenly plagued them, it was almost three weeks before team Voltron had a day to themselves again.

That was the thing about being a paladin- free time vanished and became a thing of dreams.

They’d eventually decided to split off into pairs for most of these tasks. There had been some initial discourse over the diplomacy missions, considering that there was always a chance that the planets they were visiting could be in league with the Galra- a single person could easily be overpowered if that situation occurred, whereas if they were in pairs they stood a better chance.

Coran usually remained behind at the castle to monitor their systems and provide intelligence on the planets that they were visiting or inform them if any Galra had entered their sensors. Shiro and Allura split into one pair, Hunk and Lance into another, and finally Pidge and Keith. (Quite frankly, Keith would not have been suited to diplomacy at all, considering he preferred to stab first, ask questions later.It was decided that he would be able to help their other less diplomatic teammate with repairs.)

Allura had initially held reservations about allowing Lance and Hunk to serve as diplomats, but after seeing them in action, she had found that Lance redirected his usually flirtatious quips into suave smiles and charm, and Hunk matched him well as the one that few would want to anger. While he was usually sweet and listened well to what most of the leaders and politicians had to say, there had been a single instance in which one comment had been said flippantly, the toe crossing the line into territory that they all dubbed as “ _do not, under_ any _circumstance, piss off Hunk_ ”. For while their engineer was slow to anger- glacially so, in fact- it had been agreed very quickly following that incident that people would be speaking about it for many, many months to come following the explosion that followed.

(The fact that it had been a comment about Lance that had set him off further solidified the notion that to go after one paladin was to bring the ire of another down upon them.)

Lance crawled out of bed at an hour that, were it not the first in many days, Allura would have verbally scalded him for. Pulling on his blue robe- custom, as seemed to be the case with most of the clothing and uniform on the castle, he yawned and stumbled down to the kitchen, feeling faintly unnerved at the lack of sound coming from the communal space. It was odd that there were no sounds that signalled Hunk being there. Usually, there would be the sounds of machinery whirring and Altean cutlery banging around; on a good day, there would be the scent of something new cooking.

Upon entering the room, however, it suddenly became clear as to why there were no usual domestic cooking sounds echoing down the halls.

Hunk was curled up beneath the blanket that Lance had knit him after a planet with some kind of alien sheep had been liberated. If sheep were sentient, seven feet tall and spoke in guttural voices that made one want to run to the nearest room and barricade themselves in. He was seated at the table, but he wasn’t quite present. A mug of… _something_ steamed between his palms, and his dark eyes were trained on the steam wafting up from it, not really seeing it.

Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line as he entered the room, wordlessly shrugging off his robe and draping it over top of the pastel blanket that Hunk was bundled in before pressing a quick peck to his cheek and nearly stalking over to the counter.

He recognized the look on his boyfriend’s face- it was one that he was intimately familiar with, seeing as he had days where he couldn’t do anything but realize how far away from home they all were. How none of their families knew what had happened, didn’t know if their children were alive and well.

Hunk’s moms wouldn’t know that their son was okay- now piloting the lion described by the princess herself as “ _the one whose pilot put the needs of others before his own_ ”. Pidge’s mom now had three members of her family missing, and two of which presumed dead. Was Pidge the next empty casket her mother would have to bury?

Keith and Shiro both didn’t have family. Keith was an orphan who had gotten out of the foster system by getting accepted to the Garrison, and Shiro’s parents had died in a car crash. Shortly before his deployment on the Kerberos mission, Shiro had legally adopted Keith as his brother (something that Shiro had planned in case something happened on the trip. Which, obviously, it had.)

And Lance… he was the middle child of seven. What did his mama think had happened to him? Had the Garrison told her that he had skipped out? Missing? Dead?

No.

Lance shook his head, glancing back at Hunk’s slouched shoulders. Hunk needed him right now.

He pulled out the things he needed, mind temporarily going on autopilot while he moved around the large space, a familiar tuneless melody leaving his lips as he began to hum. His mama had always sung something similar, trilling notes in her thick accent as she swayed her hips around the kitchen making breakfast.

He heard the audible sigh as Hunk began to relax, the quiet becoming less suffocating as Lance began to work on chopping foreign fruits and vegetables and others in between for Hunk, deviating momentarily to work on another special something he’d finally managed to perfect over the last several months.

“You want to talk about it?”

There was silence for a long moment, but Lance didn’t pause in his movements, carefully scraping the chopped space produce into a pan and beginning the hunt for the porridge-like stuff that tasted a bit like sweet rice, resuming his humming.

“Not right now.” Hunk finally replied quietly.

Lance made a noise of acknowledgement as he poured the drink into a mug and brought it over, seamlessly switching them out and waiting to see what the verdict was. He knew Hunk was Samoan, had heard him talk wistfully about how his moms would make him koko samoa whenever he needed a pick me up.

Of course, this version was the color of charcoal and smelt faintly of vinegar, but the taste was very similar to the koko samoa Lance had been treated to several times during finals weeks in the Garrison when Hunk started stress baking.

Actually, quite a few of the foods they had managed to replicate were distinctly alien. Textures, colors, and even the original forms of many ingredients were drastically different than what any of the humans were used to. Thankfully, Hunk was determined to replicate enough to provide adequate sustenance that wasn’t the food goo that Coran continued to promote tirelessly, and Lance furthered that during his own kitchen explorations.

Hunk tentatively took a sip.

“Lance…”

“Yeah, babe?”

“It tastes like home.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips and he nodded once and turned his attention back to the oven, stirring the shimmery pastel yellow soup that was supposed to be suafa’i. Again, due to the alien translation, there was always the chance that something wasn’t going to taste just right, but Lance had gone to great lengths to taste test each and every thing to make sure that it tasted as closely as possible to the original dishes his boyfriend had prepared for him on Earth.

“If you think that’s something, the masi samoa are going to be done soon.” Lance trilled warmly. “And I made enough for everyone, so hopefully this batch turns out better than the last time I tried.”

“Come here.”

Lance put down the spoon he was using and wandered over, immediately getting pulled into the deceptively small mound of blanket that was wrapped around Hunk with a surprised squeak. The larger of the pair didn’t say anything, but the tight hug that he wrapped Lance in said it all.

 

* * *

 

 

The odd mixture of scents wafting throughout the halls eventually lured in a bright eyed Pidge. She paused briefly at the sight of Hunk seated at the table- several layers of blankets and other miscellaneous fabrics draped around his shoulders, Lance humming something softly to himself as he puttered around the kitchen.

“Hey Pidgeon.” Lance greeted warmly, turning and placing a mug on the counter, filling it with his odd charcoal beverage that was still steaming and gesturing to it.

“This probably has enough caffeine to fuel you for the next twelve hours. Have fun.”

Pidge grabbed it and had half of it downed before it occurred to her to ask what the hell it was she was drinking.

“Alien koko samoa. My own recipe.” Lance answered proudly, scooping out some of the soup and bringing a couple of bowls over. “And this is suafa’i. Have you seen anyone else today?”

Pidge noticed the way that Lance had himself angled towards Hunk- protectively, in a position that would be ideal in case he needed to put himself between Hunk and whatever or whoever else if they posed a threat to him.

“Nah. I’ve been down working on Green. Some of her programming got scrambled from that last robeast, so I was helping her put it back together. I think I saw the resident cryptid haunting the training deck when I was on the way down, though. I haven’t even seen Shiro yet, but I think he said something about helping Coran with something today. Also, Hunk, this drink is amazing, thank you for teaching your ways to your undeserving boyfriend.”

Lance rolled his eyes and snorted, moving the bowl of soup away as she grabbed for it. Quirking a brow at her, he waited in silence before she yielded and sighed.

“Fine. Lance, you’re a decent cook and it smells good. Can I please have some?”

“Better.”

“Okay, mom.” Pidge huffed, resisting the urge to smile at their antics.

Lance leaned against Hunk’s back, arms draped over his shoulders and nuzzling into his neck, being overall disgustingly affectionate and _almost_ ruining Pidge’s appetite. But, seeing as she knew that it was Lance’s way of giving affection and that Hunk was obviously not his usual self today, she decided to leave it.

She did make it a purpose to move closer to Hunk’s side, however- he seemed like he needed the extra attention.

Keith made his entrance a while later- by then Pidge had made it to mug number three of the koko samoa and was nibbling on a bright blue and vaguely kelp-y looking masi samoa that really did taste like coconut. He was freshly showered, still had the towel around the back of his neck, and looked far too puzzled than he should have to realize that Lance was cooking.

Shiro, Allura and Coran trailed in nearly an hour later, Coran sniffing the air curiously.

“What in quiznak is that smell?” the elder Altean inquired, following his nose over to the soup.

“Which one.” Keith deadpanned. “They’re all interesting.”

(Translation: Keith had downed three bowls of soup, four cookies and was on his second cup of koko samoa.)

Lance hummed a cheerful tune as he served the rest of their team before getting started on the dishes, listening to the conversation behind him with a warmth in his chest that he’d missed. Being so far away from home was hard, but with their team together, they were beginning to forge a family of their own in the Castle of Lions.

That night, curled into Hunk’s side and feeling more content than he had in a while, Lance traced circles on his boyfriend’s shoulder and enjoyed the quiet surrounding them.

“Thanks for today, Lance.” He hummed quietly.

“You know I’d do anything for you, babe.” He replied, nuzzling his chin into Hunk’s collarbone and pressing gentle kisses along his jaw. “I’m sorry you’re missing your moms.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey.” Lance adjusted himself so that he was facing Hunk. “It’s okay to miss them. I miss my mama and abuela every day, and all of my weird siblings. I wonder if they miss me and if the Garrison told them I was dead or missing or kidnapped or whatever. But right now, I’m here for _you_. Just let me know if you need me to run interference and I’ll make sure Allura stays off your back.”

“You’re amazing, you know that?”

“So I’m told.” He chuckled, kissing the tip of Hunk’s nose. “Love you, babe.”

“Love you too, Lance.”


End file.
